


Trial Run

by mysecretashes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Coming Untouched, Dom Derek, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Facials, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Sub Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysecretashes/pseuds/mysecretashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hales own an elite BDSM club, but Derek hasn't taken on a client in years.  Until Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trial Run

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Challenge 3 at [Mating Games](http://mating-games.livejournal.com).

Laura stalks into Derek's office and drops a thin file on his desk. "For you."

"No," Derek says, not even bothering to glance up from the paperwork he's doing.

"I can't do it." Laura invites herself to sit in the chair on the opposite side of Derek's desk, crossing her legs and dangling a stiletto off her toes. "I'm already overbooked."

"Cora, then."

"Nope," Laura says smugly. "He's a total greenie, and Cora's only been training a year."

"Erica –"

"On her honeymoon with Boyd, you know this."

" _Peter_."

"Doesn't want anyone over the age of thirty-five. Or creepy."

Derek rolls his eyes, though really he's not surprised. Peter has a very specific sort of clientele. "I'm not doing it, Laura. I don't take clients anymore."

Laura hums in acknowledgement, and then reaches over to open the file. "Stiles Stilinski, age nineteen. Not a virgin, but wants to explore his submissive side with someone who actually knows what they're doing."

Derek snarls at her, but can't stop himself from looking down at the picture in the file. He stares at it for a moment, blinking as he's immediately taken in by the kid's bright eyes and smug smirk.

"Fine," Derek snaps, slamming the file closed and shoving it back across the desk. "Set up an interview."

He ignores the way Laura's expression flickers with both surprise and relief.

*

Derek stares at the kid sitting in the armchair across from him. The picture hadn't done him justice; he's _gorgeous_ , with a scattering of moles, hair perfect for holding, and a pair of lips Derek wants to ruin with his dick.

"So, Stiles," Derek says, scanning the pre-interview survey about preferences and limits that Stiles had filled out two weeks ago. It's for show; he'd had it memorized within a day. "Have you ever done anything like this before?"

Stiles nods his head, nearly vibrating with nerves. "Yeah, I mean – just a little? I had a girlfriend in high school and we fooled around some with it, but I always liked it more than she did. Figured I'd see just how much I liked it."

Derek feels a flutter of excitement in his stomach like he hasn't in a long, long time. He sits forward, clasping his hands between his knees. "Okay. I think we'll do a – let's call it a trial run. One time, and then, if we're both happy and want to continue, we'll negotiate a contract. You should know now that if we enter into an agreement, you're mine. I only take one client at a time, and I don't share. Sound good?"

"Yeah." Stiles flicks his tongue out over his bottom lip and nods. "Sounds perfect."

*

When Derek enters his personal room at the club, Stiles is already there. He's naked, as per instructions, and kneeling on the floor, staring up at Derek with wide eyes. Derek makes a noise of approval but doesn't comment otherwise. He moves around the room, stripping off his shirt and examining a few of the cuffs lain out on a nearby table. Picking a pair of soft, lightweight ones, he turns back to where Stiles is still waiting for him.

"Safeword?"

"Popsicle."

"Good," Derek murmurs, rubbing one thumb down Stiles' jaw. He holds the cuffs up. "Front or back?"

Stiles looks surprised at the question, then licks his lips. "Back."

Derek nods, giving Stiles a pleased look. "Arms behind your back."

Stiles complies, and Derek quickly straps the cuffs around his wrists. It's such a beautiful sight, and Derek can't stop himself from leaning forward and placing a kiss directly between Stiles' shoulder blades. The response is instantaneous; Stiles relaxes, releasing a nearly silent sigh.

Derek smiles and stands, stepping around Stiles to stare down into his face. "We're starting small. I'm going to fuck your face."

Stiles' eyes go dark, pupils expanding, and his dick begins to fill against his thigh.

"How's your gag reflex?"

"Uh," Stiles says, swallowing audibly. "It's there, but it's not very strong?"

"Good." Derek unzips his jeans and pushes them down, kicking them off; he's been thinking about this since the interview, and his dick is already achingly hard. "You can make noise, and if you need to come you can. We'll work on orgasm control later."

Stiles nods, glancing between Derek's dick and his eyes. Derek smirks at him and steps forward, using his thumb to press down on Stiles' bottom lip. His mouth opens so prettily, and Derek has to bite back a groan as he slowly pushes his dick into Stiles' mouth. It's hot and wet, the bottom of Derek's dick sliding deliciously over Stiles' tongue.

Derek keeps one thumb hooked in Stiles' mouth and brings his other hand up to bury in Stiles' hair. He tightens his grip immediately and Stiles whimpers, eyes fluttering shut.

"Open your eyes," Derek orders. Stiles immediately blinks them wide, making Derek hum. "You're so good already. Are you trying extra hard to impress me?"

Stiles can't answer with Derek's dick in his mouth, but the way his cheeks flush is enough of an answer anyway. Derek grins, putting every ounce of _predator_ he can into it.

"We'll just have to fix that, won't we?"

He slams his hips forward and Stiles chokes, gagging slightly, eyes watering. Derek pulls out and slides his thumb over Stiles' spit-damp bottom lip. "I'm not angry, but I don't want you to pretend with me. This will be a partnership, not a play for extreme power. I want you to feel safe, or this isn't going to work. Okay?"

Stiles nods. "Yeah, got it," he says seriously, and there's something a bit more subdued and open in his expression.

"Good. Now open."

Stiles' lips part again, mouth wide and inviting, and Derek slides his dick back in. He goes slow this time, rocking almost gently. His hand is still tight in Stiles' hair, and he holds him in place as his pace gradually increases.

When Stiles' eyes go bright and glassy Derek pulls out, ignoring the resulting whine from Stiles. He hooks the fingers of his free hand under Stiles' chin and pulls his head back so that Stiles is looking him in the eye.

"What's your safeword?"

Stiles' brow furrows but he answers clearly, the word coming out almost defiant. "Popsicle."

"Do you want to continue?"

"Please yes," Stiles breathes, and Derek's dick twitches.

"I'm going to go harder this time, and not stop until I come."

Stiles nods, and opens his mouth for a third time when Derek presses the tip of his dick to his soft lips.

This time, Derek only holds back a little. He grips Stiles' hair and fucks into his mouth, hips hitching and rolling as his dick slides into the glorious, wet heat over and over. Stiles doesn't struggle, lets Derek use his mouth, his lips quickly getting red and swollen and spit sliding down his chin.

Derek pushes in deep and holds himself there. Stiles chokes a little, eyes watering and spilling over as he fights for breath without moving, nose nearly buried in the hair at the base of Derek's dick. Derek groans at the sensation of Stiles' throat fluttering around the head of his dick, and yanks himself out, not bothering to stop his orgasm.

Stiles' mouth is open as he automatically draws in a stuttering breath, and Derek comes all over his face. A thick splash of it lands across the bridge of Stiles' nose, some in his mouth, and more on his cheeks and forehead.

"Oh, god," Stiles gasps, entire body tensing as his eyes roll back. Derek looks down to see him coming, dick twitching without a single touch to it, spurts of hot, white liquid trailing down to cover his balls.

Derek loosens his grip on Stiles' hair and cards his fingers through it, smiling slightly when Stiles leans forward and rests his temple on Derek's thigh. It smears the come on Stiles' face all over them both but he doesn't care; something in his chest has settled, something safe and comforting that he didn't think he could have again.

"Come on," Derek says when Stiles' breathing is steadier. "Let's get you taken care of."

Stiles nods, and Derek reaches down to unclasp the cuffs, dropping them to the floor before gently pulling Stiles to his feet. He takes Stiles' hands and rubs at them carefully, pleased that they aren't swollen from lack of blood flow. Stiles is shaking, eyes on the floor, and Derek lifts one hand to his chin, tugging until Stiles is looking at him.

"Tell me the truth. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, voice rough enough to send a thrill down Derek's spine. "I promise. I just – didn't expect it to be –"

"More than physical?" Derek supplies when Stiles pauses, seemingly at a loss for words.

Stiles nods again, swallowing hard. Derek leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips – their first – and Stiles shudders, relaxing against him. When he pulls away Stiles bites at his bottom lip, looking like his entire world has been tossed on its head.

"Do you still want to discuss a contract?" Derek asks, needing to hear Stiles say it out loud.

"Yes." Stiles takes a deep breath. "I would really like to do that."

Derek smiles. "Good."

He tangles their fingers together and leads Stiles towards the bathroom, already planning what he wants to do to him next time.


End file.
